


Feast for the Senses

by SweetSorcery



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bed Sex, Blindfolds, Carrying, Claustrophobia, Clothed Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Feeding, Feels, First Kiss, Food, Hand Feeding, Ice Cream, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, Kissing, M/M, Male Slash, Partially Clothed Sex, Protectiveness, Rescue, Romance, Sensory Deprivation, Slash, Smile, Temperature Play, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 23:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16185251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: When Credence is pushed into a panic attack, and very nearly transformation, he is rescued. His rescuer teaches him how to cope with his phobia, among other things.(Day 3 Prompts used: Sensory Deprivation | Temperature Play)





	Feast for the Senses

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **Kinktober 2018** on Tumblr. I meant to use all 4 prompts today, I really did, but then Credence smiled, and Percival lost it... and... well, I couldn't bring out the knives by then. I should probably just admit they didn't even let me get in much of the temperature play edgewise. :) This was also written and edited within barely 4 hours.  
>  Note that unless stated otherwise, when I put Graves in a story, there's no Grindelwald in there. Consider it pre-takeover or AU, I guess.

Credence didn't like crowds. When mother made them stand in a public space full of people to preach, he shrunk in on himself, and not merely because he didn't want to be seen. Didn't want to be there at all. He thought that taking up less space would keep everyone further away. When he saw people crowding in on him, every word spoken was too loud, every accidental touch felt like a blow, and every hostile stare was like a knife aimed at him.

Walking about on his own, he always chose the quieter side of the road, the less busy sidewalk. It didn't help him with his task of handing out leaflets, but it kept him from panicking and from becoming... that thing.

He was dangerously close to losing control when, finding himself in an alleyway, with several men coming towards him and sneering at him, he turned around to see another group coming up behind him. He had been in a situation like this before, and felt the burning sensation begin in the soles of his feet, and he smelled the black smoke fill his lungs - not from the outside, but from the inside, and he was terrified.

"There's the little freak," one of them was shouting. "Hasn't got his ma to protect him. Let's get him, boys!"

Credence started sinking down into a crouch, even while he grew hotter, less substantial. He wanted to laugh at the idea of his mother protecting him. He might have started to laugh, or to scream, he wasn't sure which, but he felt himself coming apart, smoke rising in his eyes. He saw the men shrinking back, some of them running as fast as they could to get away, some of them standing there in horror.

He heard another shout; he didn't understand what was said, but a bright flash of light surrounded him, even while the men were repelled in all directions, flung through the air like puppets cut lose from their strings.

Credence breathed in the brightness, felt it slowly replace the smoke in his lungs. The tightness in his chest loosened, his limbs began to feel part of him again. He wasn't yet able to stand up on his own, but a strong hand took his arm and raised him up. When he stumbled, the hand was replaced by the whole arm slipped around his back, and another was behind his knees, and he was being lifted up. The brightness had dimmed enough by then to just make out his saviour's features.

"Mr Graves," Credence sighed, and passed out.

* * *

When he came to, he was lying on a large, comfortable bed - his head propped up on a fluffy pillow which smelled familiar, his body covered with warm, soft blankets. He became dimly aware that his shoes had been removed, and his jacket.

"Feeling better?" Mr Graves set down a glass of water on the side table and sat on the edge of the bed, beside Credence.

Credence nodded. "Where am I?"

"At my place."

He had only met Mr Graves a couple of times. He wasn't sure he should be at his place.

"Is this your bed, Mr Graves?"

"Yes, Credence." A gentle hand stroked the hair back from his forehead. When it immediately sprang back into a fringe, Graves gave a half-smile. Briefly, then it fell away. "Why were those men threatening you?"

Credence closed his eyes. "Because I'm a freak."

He felt hands under his shoulders and was drawn up off the bed until he sat upright. Mr Graves was looking at him. "Have some water." He handed the glass to Credence, who gulped its contents down hurriedly. He spluttered a little on the last gulp, and Mr Graves took the empty glass and set it aside again, before taking both of Credence's hands in his. "Your hands are shaking." A frown. "And you're sweating."

"I... I panicked. They came too close."

"You don't like people close to you."

Credence swallowed. "No."

"What about me? Do you want me to sit further away?"

"No," Credence said quickly. "I don't feel shut in with you."

"You get claustrophobic," Mr Graves observed, then clarified, "You feel overwhelmed, too crowded."

"I... yes." Credence held his hands stiffly, not wanting to move them at all, in case it reminded Mr Graves that he was still holding them. "Sometimes, everything is too much, too close... too loud."

Mr Graves had not forgotten that he was holding his hands. He started to stroke his thumbs over the backs of them. "Do you want me to make your world calm? To help you create a space in your mind that you can escape to, when everything becomes too much?"

Credence blinked. "You can do that?"

Mr Graves smiled. "Yes, Credence. It might scare you a little to start with, but if you can relax into it, it will make you calmer."

"I'm always scared. I..." Blushing, because he had not meant to admit that, Credence continued, "I would like to try."

"Without knowing what I'm going to do?" When Credence nodded, Mr Graves said, "You're not scared. You're really rather brave."

Credence ducked his head, but his chin was raised again. "I'm going to tie something around your eyes, Credence. And then I'm going to help you sit back against the headboard."

Credence gasped. His pulse sped up. He didn't like the idea of not seeing what was happening. But Mr Graves thought him brave. He didn't want to disappoint him before he had even started whatever it was he was going to do.

"Nothing bad will happen to you while you're blindfolded. If you feel yourself starting to panic, you can just draw the blindfold away. It's that easy, all right?"

Credence nodded.

Mr Graves walked across the room to retrieve one of his scarves - a white, silk evening scarf - from his dresser, and sat down on the bed again, closer this time. He gave Credence another encouraging smile, then raised the scarf to fasten it over his eyes.

Credence tried to slow his breathing, and realised the scarf smelled of Mr Graves, just like the pillow, and he was surrounded by the scent while the scarf was tied in a knot behind his head. He calmed instantly, and let himself be shifted back against the headboard, with the thick pillow behind his back.

"Can you see anything?"

"No."

"Good." The bed shifted. Mr Graves had stood up.

"Please, don't go away."

"I'm not leaving you alone, Credence. I'm just going to get a few things."

Credence gulped. He waited for a couple of minutes, tempted to peek out from under the blindfold, but he left it in place. When he heard the familiar footsteps return, he relaxed.

The bed dipped again.

"I'm going to show you how to escape into a world of the senses when things become too much. For example, if a room is too bright, or there are too many people, close your eyes and think yourself somewhere else, where you don't have to look at anything, or be looked at by anyone, or watch out for dangers. Somewhere dark and soothing."

Credence listened attentively, the calm voice making him forget already that he couldn't see what Mr Graves was doing. He gasped when the voice was suddenly very close to his left ear.

"When you can't see, your hearing is that much keener. You can concentrate on every nuance of sound - imagine you're hearing birds, or waves rolling onto a beach, or a warm fire crackling in a fireplace, or--"

"Or your voice?" Credence suggested.

"Or my voice, if you find it soothing." There was a smile in Mr Graves' voice.

"I do." Credence shivered when he felt the next words whispered right into the shell of his ear.

"Relax, Credence, you're safe. I will let no harm come to you. I'm right here, and I'll always be with you when you close your eyes."

Credence whimpered. The warm breath and the words were doing more than relaxing him. He wasn't sure that was meant to happen, so he decided to be quiet about it.

Mr Graves shifted away again. "Your other senses will be keener too. For example, your sense of touch." His right hand was lifted, and Mr Graves intertwined their fingers while pressing their palms together.

Credence lifted his left hand and moved it around until he touched something - a shoulder, firm under his hand, and not as far away as he had expected. He stroked over it hesitantly, then slid his hand towards the side of Mr Graves' neck. He ran it up, with his thumb stroking over the front of it, brushing the Adam's Apple on the way to the clean-shaven chin.

"It's your sense of touch we're trying to enhance, Credence, not mine," Mr Graves said, his voice sounding uneven.

"Sorry!" Credence quickly apologised, withdrawing his hand, but it was grasped in midair, and then he felt a kiss on the back of it. He bit his lip when the kiss travelled over two of his knuckles, and along his index finger to the tip, where the lips parted and drew his finger into the wet warmth of the mouth down to the second joint.

Gasping, Credence allowed it, even as he shifted a little uncomfortably, suddenly also more aware than before of where exactly he was - of the softness of the blankets against his mostly bare arms, of the firmness of the mattress under his buttocks, of the warmth of the pillow caressing the nape of his neck and enfolding him like an embrace. All of these things belonged to Mr Graves, smelled of Mr Graves, were warm and comforting like Mr Graves. And his body had become very conscious of the fact. The entire surface of his skin was tingling, most of all his index finger, which had been released with a kiss to the tip - the air in the room felt cool on its damp surface.

"You're shivering," Mr Graves said. His voice sounded deeper than usual.

"I'm not sure if I'm warm or cold," Credence said, feeling silly for not being able to describe the excited flushes and chills racing each other across his skin better.

"Both can be very pleasant."

The hand Mr Graves had continued to hold was released, and Credence missed the physical contact, but not for long.

"Open your mouth a little. It's time to explore your sense of taste."

Credence swallowed, then parted his lips. He felt something sticky on his lower lip, being spread from side to side by a finger. He tried to close his lips around it, but it was gone, and he tasted... "Honey."

"Yes. Open up again."

This time, the sensation was sharp, the sting of it made him shudder, "Lemon!"

"Some more honey, to make up for it?" There was a smile in the voice, and Credence smiled back.

He heard a gasp, and stopped smiling at once.

"No, don't.... Credence, smile again for me." Mr Graves' voice sounded pleading, and Credence smiled, as much because he had been asked to as because the idea of Mr Graves pleading for his smile was too unbelievable.

"Credence..." Hands that were shaking were on his cheeks, thumbs tracing his cheekbones, fingertips fluttering across his mouth, incidentally leaving more honey behind. "I've never seen a more beautiful smile." The voice was as shaky as the hands.

It did terrible, wonderful things to Credence, to hear and feel that Mr Graves was affected by him, as unlikely as it seemed. He moved his hands over his lap, awkwardly shielding the evidence of his delight, even though he was wrapped up in the blanket.

"I don't smile much," he said lamely, having no idea what else to say.

"No. But you have to, now that I know how good you are at it." Mr Graves was still cupping his face. "I'm going to make you smile, Credence."

Credence thought of many ways Mr Graves could do so, but didn't dare voice any of his thoughts. When the hands left his cheeks, it took a moment before he heard a soft, "Open your mouth."

When he did, he felt the coolness of a spoon on his tongue, and then tasted something sweet and very cold. It was unbelievably delicious. "What is that?" he mumbled, once the spoon was removed, moving the cold substance around his mouth with his tongue.

"You don't know?" Mr Graves sounded sad, which confused Credence.

"No."

"It's ice cream, Credence. Chocolate ice cream."

"It's very nice." Credence felt regret when the deliciousness melted away to nothing. He wanted more of the cold treat.

"You've never had ice cream," Mr Graves said, sounding serious.

Credence shook his head. He licked his lips, as if hoping to find traces left behind.

There was a sigh. "I don't know whether to take off your blindfold, give you the spoon, and press a big tub of ice cream into your hands, or whether to continue the lesson."

Credence thought about this for a moment. "The lesson, please."

This time, when Mr Graves spoke, he sounded amused. Good, Credence didn't want him to be sad. "You like the lesson so much?"

Nodding, Credence said, "Am I going to taste something warm next?"

"Yes." There was a pause. A long pause. "But I can think of nothing warmer than a kiss, can you?"

Credence had no idea whether kisses were warm, but he had seen people kiss, and he felt a swooping sensation in his stomach. He pressed his hands against it to calm it down. It was hopeless when he felt Mr Graves move closer. His scent, the sound of his breathing, his very presence changed the atmosphere, and Credence could do nothing but tilt his head and purse his lips.

With a little groan, Mr Graves pressed his mouth to the puckered lips.

Credence, even having known it was coming, gasped a little, and their lips moved against each other - Credence was shy, tentative, but so eager to taste his favourite flavour yet; while Mr Graves was firm, demanding, yet gentle, playing with Credence's lips as much as devouring them.

Quite unaware he had moved, Credence suddenly felt starched cotton, warm skin and short hair under his hands, and realised he had lifted his arms and wrapped them around the back of Mr Graves' neck. And then he felt arms around his waist, hands on his back, fingertips firmly pressing into his ribs but not painfully, just hard enough to draw him forward, against Mr Graves' upper body.

In between gasps for breath, their mouths continued shifting against each other, angled this way and that, until there was a gap for Mr Graves to slip his tongue into Credence's mouth. The sensation was strange for a single moment, before it shot a bolt of pleasure through Credence's lower body. He couldn't even imagine how his mouth was connected to it, but the demanding strokes of the tongue against his own, the way it played along the edges of his teeth, curled against the top of his mouth and seemed to seek out every nuance of his taste, made him more painfully hard than ever within moments.

He gasped for breath and, when his mouth was released, he turned his face and clung to Mr Graves, his head on his shoulder, breathing hard. 

"Too much?" Mr Graves sounded as broken as Credence felt.

He nodded against the firm shoulder. A gentle hand stroked over his hair. He needed to calm down, before Mr Graves could notice, but it was not to be. He was gently lowered back down to the bed, but Mr Graves moved forward with him, settling alongside him and holding him close. He was above the blanket, while Credence was under it, but he stroked gently up and down his arm on the opposite side, then up and down his back, keeping him close. then his hand moved down a little, across the top of his buttocks, pressing him even closer.

Credence gasped. He was hard against Mr Graves' hip. He could feel it, Mr Graves would be able to feel it.

Instead of admonishment, there was a pleased sound. "Relax, Credence. I'm glad you're enjoying the lesson so much."

Credence exhaled slowly. "I am. Is there more?"

Mr Graves was smiling, Credence could feel the smile against his forehead. "We haven't explored your sense of smell yet."

"I... don't think I can," Credence admitted.

"Oh?"

Credence hid his face in the crook of Mr Graves' neck. "All I can smell is you, all around me."

"How do I smell, Credence?" Mr Graves asked.

Instead of a reply, Credence shifted until he could nuzzle up against Mr Graves' ear. "Like warmth, and spices, and trees, like a barbershop I walked past once - I stopped at the open door, there was such a fresh, comforting scent drifting out. Like wool, and leather. Expensive things I'm not allowed to touch."

Mr Graves gripped his shoulders and shifted until Credence was mostly on top of him, awkwardly entangled in the blanket between them. "Credence," he said, his voice raspy. "Do you want to touch me?"

Credence nodded eagerly. "May I take the scarf off, so I can see?"

"Not yet."

Credence allowed himself to be shifted until the blanket between them was gone, and he was lying on top of Mr Graves, his knees on either side of him. He jolted with a sudden awareness.

There was a soft chuckle. "Did you think that wouldn't happen, with you sliding around all over me, nuzzling against my neck, inhaling me and being... you."

Credence didn't know what to say. He could only shift against the answering hardness again and moan.

"Credence," Mr Graves said huskily. "You may touch me any way you like, anywhere you like."

"I may?"

"Yes."

Credence let his hands, fingers spread wide, trace aimless over the broad chest, the wide shoulders, back again, and over the flat stomach. He felt it, and the chest, rising and falling under his hands, and moved them to the buttons of the waistcoat. "May I..."

"Yes." Mr Graves sounded as if he might have trouble saying more than the one word.

Credence undid all the buttons, more efficiently than he could have done while seeing them, then he started on the shirt buttons as well. Before long, he could brush both waistcoat and shirt aside, and his hands were on bare skin - he felt the heat, the texture of smooth skin, the strong heartbeat getting faster by the second. He let his fingertips roam in widening circles, catching against nipples and sparse surrounding hairs, causing gasps and little hisses - like words barely held back. He leaned down, breathing deeply, then let his lips skim over the centre of the chest.

"My darling," Mr Graves murmured, and the endearment was so unexpected, Credence let out a little sob. "No, don't." A hand stroked his hair, and Credence laid his head down on the gently moving ribcage. He remained still, but not for long, the pressure against his stomach too intriguing to not go on exploring. He shifted his hips a little to the side, and his hands fumbled with the belt, and buttons, of the fine wool trousers, until he could undo them and push aside the fabric.

He felt coarse hairs under his hand, the scent of Mr Graves here mingled with an enticing musk, and he moved his hand further down, until he could feel the hard, hot shaft under his hand.

The groan caused by his touch made him harder still, and he wriggled against the outside of Mr Graves leg, biting his lip at the sensation of warmth trickling from his own tip inside his clothes.

Hands helpfully pushed the bunched fabric of trousers and underwear further past the hips, and Credence could wrap his hand around the whole length. He was so close to it, it was only natural it should spring up against his lips. He dared not breathe for a moment. Was he allowed to... taste?

"Credence, let me feel your lips around me. Please, sweet boy."

Whimpering, Credence opened his mouth and let the thick shaft slide inside. He moaned at the taste, at the way the warmth of his mouth seemed to make it even harder, made it move and trickle fluid and--

He was being shifted on the bed, he suddenly realised, his legs pulled across Mr Graves thighs, and up. He felt as if he being curved into a half circle. He had no idea what was happening, until he felt Mr Graves' hands on his trousers, undoing them at a nearly frantic pace, pulling them down his legs and off, He tried to hold on to his treat, clutching the hips under him, keeping himself grounded as much as anything else, but it slipped from his mouth. And then his legs were parted, one raised up, drawn sideways, and he was flipped onto his knees again on top of Mr Graves. Upside down within the bed, he guessed, and blushed, realising that his cock had to be as close to Mr Graves' lips as he was to...

He sought with his hands, and his mouth, and oh yes, there it was. Credence closed his mouth over it again, sighing with contentment to have it back.

Hands were on his hips, shifting him, parting his legs wider, and then his cock sank into wet heat, and Credence nearly collapsed where he was, suddenly boneless. But when the suction started, the heat around him tightening, squeezing him, milking trickles of fluid from him, he could do nothing but return the pleasure as best he could. He sucked and slurped and groaned around the throbbing flesh, his hands having no idea where to go except to curl around the base and cling to the hips now jerking up irregularly, as if their owner couldn't lie still anymore.

Mr Graves had no such trouble with his hands. They knew exactly where to go. While his mouth sucked Credence down deep into his throat, his palms were squeezing his arse, the tips of his long fingers meeting along the crack, his middle fingers, almost accidentally, flickering over his hole on an especially hard suck, and with an uncontrolled trembling and twitching, and a little accidental bite, Credence came down his throat.

He became aware he had bitten a moment after he did, and tried to soothe the spot with flicks of his tongue, even while he was still trembling through his orgasm. And then he moaned, joyfully, because the bite couldn't have been too hard. His mouth was suddenly flooded, and he swallowed and gulped, taking all he could, aware some of it trickled from the corners of his mouth.

And then he collapsed, sated and exhausted, his face on Mr Graves' groin, his mouth just touching the limp shaft.

After a few minutes of rest, they disentangled themselves, and Credence was turned and pulled up into Mr Graves' arms. One hand pulled off his blindfold, and he blinked, expecting bright light. Instead, the room had gone half dark, and the deep brown eyes gazing into his were soft and as unfocussed as he felt. And Credence smiled, tracing a drop of his own essence in the corner of Mr Graves' mouth.

"That smile may be the death of me," Mr Graves said, sounding raw and gravelly. "It certainly killed my few honourable intentions for your lesson."

Credence shook his head. "I learned a lot, Mr Graves."

Mr Graves laughed.

It was such a warm, joyful laugh, Credence felt he might well be in love with it. And with Mr Graves.

"My darling boy, you do such things to my heart." The tone of voice, the words, and the tenderness in the soft gaze made Credence think that, maybe, Mr Graves was in love with him too.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://sweetsorcery.tumblr.com/), and we can squee about this and maybe other pairings/fandoms we love. And drop me a message there. I'd love to follow you back. :)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Copyright of this fandom, some settings and its characters - J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and possibly other right holders. This story is written purely for the entertainment of fans, and no profit is made.


End file.
